


Time to Learn

by Twilys



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Did I mention fluff?, F!Byleth, Family Fluff, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Gen, No Spoilers, Reading, Writing, aka Good Dad Jeralt, he tries hard I swear, just a dad trying to raise his daughter in between fighting, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilys/pseuds/Twilys
Summary: Jeralt's mercenary troop gets a leave, which means Jeralt gets to spend time with his daughter.





	Time to Learn

That nobleman sure liked to talk. Jeralt had gone up to his fine castle just after dawn, and had only – finally – escaped now, the sun already high in the sky. Cursing at the sharp light, which hurt his eyes after so long spent in old stones’ shades, he retrieved his mount and hurried back to camp. His troop was to remain stationed in a village nearby, waiting until Lord Uppity gathered the soldiers needed for the job. That gave them roughly a week’s leave, a welcomed pause – and paid, no less. On the whole, it was a pretty good deal; therefore, Jeralt had held back – multiple times – his very strong urge to roll his eyes and yawn throughout the morning. He doubted His Lordship would have appreciated. That still left him with a book to read, courtesy of the nobleman, who insisted on the usefulness of its teachings.

Upon arriving on the campsite, he was pleased to see his orders had been respected. The tents were well set, and by the smell of it, lunch was on its way. That brought a smile to his lips: he really was glad to have a reliable troop. Not that they should be too aware of that, obviously. That would only lead to confidence and questioning, something he avoided at all costs. Leaving his horse in the care of one of his men, he set on his way to find his second-in-command. As usual, the later found him first.

“Heyo captain!” He exclaimed cheerfully, true to himself.

“You lot ain’t fine knights, drop the title already,” Jeralt sighed, already knowing his efforts were vain.

“It’s nice to feel appreciated,” the mercenary chuckled. “Glad you made it out alive! So? What’s the deal?”

“Usual business, plus a week’s waiting on his lordship.”

“Booyah!” The man’s gesture, a raised fist in the air, drew a smile from Jeralt. “That means paid leave, right? I’m sure everyone’ll love the news!”

Jeralt nodded. “Yeah, more or less. We’re stuck here but food and the like are provided. Behave yourselves though, I am answering for your behaviour.”

“Will do! Don’t worry ‘bout that, we’ll be aaaall prim and proper.” He managed to pull off a curtsey, before shifting to a serious look. “On another note, guy on supplies duty says paper’s been disappearing. Not that important but I thought I’d let you know.”

“Paper?” Jeralt shot him a surprised look. “Nothing else?”

“Nope, just plain ole paper,” he shrugged. “Weird thing to steal uh? You’d think any bloke with sense would choose the weapons right next to ‘em.”

“You said it,” Jeralt huffed. “Still, paper ain’t cheap either, and we'll need it for maps and the like. Put a guy on lookout, will ya?”

“Sure thing sir!” And with a bow he was gone… before coming back to him. “If you’re looking for the kid, she’s hiding somewhere in camp. I send someone with her to the woods, she came back when she noticed. She hasn’t been seen leaving since.”

“Figured. Thanks, I’ll see you around.” He waved at the man then set off to search for his daughter.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Jeralt found his daughter in their tent, seated at his made-up – boxes and a wooden plank – desk. As soon as he had stepped into the tent, she spun around towards him. Her eyes lit up a bit, and she greeted him with “Papa!” and a _Hello_ nod. Jeralt smiles to her. Then she turned back to what she was doing. He tried to see what it was as he took off his boots, but she was concealing it well from his gaze. All he could tell is that she was concentrated on something, back leaned over the table.

Her hair had grown too long again, falling in front of her eyes every now and then. As she tucked the rebellious strands back behind her ears, Jeralt made a note to cut them later. He was actually getting quite good at it, after a few failed attempts. Last time, other than a few wild strands, it was mostly even. Besides, what was a necessity before – mainly because Byleth liked to go exploring in the woods and would come back with twigs, leaves and dirt tangled in her teal hair (he honestly didn’t know how this was possible) – became a thing he enjoyed; and so did Byleth. Of course, his kid would never say such things. But the way she’d close her eyes and relax against his touch, humming to herself as he brushed her hair, spoke plainly enough. In those moments, Jeralt could picture – for just a moment – what might have been. If her mother was still with them, if they weren’t forced to live the way they did, from job to job and pay-check to pay-check, battles surrounding them. If he had the time to simply enjoy taking care of his daughter, to try harder to get a glimpse of those secret thoughts of hers. But for now…

Dropping the book on the way, he walked to her. He ruffled her wild teal locks – making Byleth laugh in that quiet way of hers – then carefully combed them with his fingers. _This ribbon will do_, he thinks as he tied Byleth’s hair back into a passable bun. She hummed a thanks in response, still deeply focused on whatever was on the desk. That piqued his interest: he crouched to his daughter’s level and asked:

“Uh, what’s this?”

“…” Wordlessly, Byleth showed him a folded piece of paper. Then, barely audibly: “Like Papa,” she breathed.

“By, it’s okay if I take a look?” He asked softly, waiting for her approval.

“…” Though reluctantly, she nodded and gave him her treasure.

Jeralt gently opened his daughter’s prized page, only to find… scribbles in it. He squinted a bit at the lines and curls covering the page, trying to recognize something. Was it even supposed to represent something? The scribbles were mostly forming lines, but no clear shape appeared. Was she drawing… grass? mountains? clouds?

Jeralt was interrupted by a little tug at his sleeve. Looking up from the page, he met Byleth’s eyes, pointing to the paper with her head, silently asking: _Can I have it back?_ Jeralt nodded, handing back the paper. Byleth sat herself back on her made-up chair, back straighten. The way her eyebrows furrowed, her focused gaze… She put all her concentration into picking up her quill, carefully dipping it in the inkpot then setting it on the paper. She looked up to him, saying: “I show.” before turning her attention back to the paper. Carefully, she drew lines and curls across the page, forming yet another series of incomprehensible scribbles. Jeralt watched her in wonder: never had she looked so… dedicated. Although inkblots could be seen higher on the page, she made sure not to make any this time.

Having finished her line, she gently put her quill down before turning to her father: “Like Papa,” she said, just a bit louder than before. She then pointed to his journal on the desk. “I do like Papa do.”

Finally, it clicked. The scribbles were no drawings at all; they were writing. Or at least Byleth was trying to write, but as she had not yet learned to write and read… Judging by all the papers crowding the table, she must have tried all morning. Maybe she saw him writing in his journal at night, when he thought she was asleep.

“You're... you're writing?”

She shrugs. “Dunno. Papa is writing?”

Jeralt chuckled then reached for his journal, opening it for Byleth to see. “That's right. See? It’s a journal. I write in it what's happened during the day. Helps me focus on the important you know? And keep things permanent.”

“Per..manent?” she blinked.

“Yeah, means they won’t go away. Means I won't forget them.” He explained, old grief still weighting heavy on his chest.

“I see,” she nodded, so serious Jeralt can't help but smile. “You show?”

“You wanna learn to write?” Seeing Byleth's quick nod, he scratched his chin. “Not sure I can teach you, kid...” Fighting yes – when she is older – but writing... He wasn’t an expert. Maybe that was why he had pushed it away. He knew he should have started before, but somehow he had always forgot. Pretty pathetic excuse. She really seemed enthusiastic about it, and he would hate to disappoint her. “Don't frown at me like that. Here's what we'll do: I reckon there's a school in the village, and since we're staying a bit... wanna give it a try?”

“School? With other kids?” As Jeralt nodded, she fell in deep reflection. Then: “I'll try.” she said, with a sort of glint in her eyes.

“That's settled then. I'll go ask after lunch.” Jeralt grinned and ruffled her hair before setting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Ready to go? Whatever's on the menu smells awfully good, don't keep your hungry dad waiting.”

“Um um.” Byleth tucked her papers in Jeralt's journal then leaped off the chair and reached for her father's hand. “Ready papa!”

“Let's go then.” He gave her hand a squeeze then lead her outside. Before exiting the tent, he crouched to his daughter's level to say: “Last thing... if you need something, ask for it, alright? Stealing is not a thing we do.”

“...” The way she avoided his eyes and focused on her shoes instead told him she at least felt a bit sheepish. “Sorry papa.”

“As long as you don't do it again.” Standing up, he gave her hand another squeeze then stepped outside.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

It was late. How could it be so late already? The day had passed by quickly, in between signing Byleth up for school and running errands to find supplies for her, as well as briefing his troop about the mission. Then he had gone with Byleth for a stroll in the woods - that is, a stroll for him while she ran around, sometimes pointing a special rock or flower to him. She'd remind him of his wife, and her love of nature. Moments like these were rare; it was not often that he had time to spend with his kid. As sappy as it sounded, seeing Byleth nearly gasp with delight when she spotted a doe drinking in a pond was a memory he'd forever cherished. Byleth really had changed something in him; not that he was complaining, of course. 

Back to camp, he set to work. As much as he would have loved to walk with his daughter around every forest in Fòdlan, duty awaited. And sleep, in her case. So despite her disapproving stare, he tucked Byleth into bed - and made sure she _stayed_ in bed. Honestly, the most difficult part had been telling her she would have to wait until the next morning to start school. She had had a small pout, but didn't protest either, as usual. Audibly, that is. Then he trained, and when it seemed he could find no other excuse, he went back to his tent, grabbed the nobleman's book and started his reading. Now, the candle he had lit just moments ago - or so it seemed - was flickering, giving its last feeble light. Jeralt put down the book and rubbed his eyes. They were awfully sore, but he still had to finish the last few pages. That nobleman made clear the job he offered required learning about the region. He couldn't delay it either, because he would need time to put in practice his learning.

Tap tap tap. Footsteps interrupted Jeralt's thoughts. Glancing to his right, he saw Byleth advancing towards him. Secretly grateful to have an excuse to delay his reading, Jeralt put down the book. Leaning back in his chair, he asked: “Now now… Shouldn’t you be sleeping, kiddo?” As he waited for her answer – which would come, when his kid decided – Byleth climbed on his lap and cuddled against his chest. He began stroking her hair. Once she’s all settled, she breathed:

“Bad dream.”

“Same one?” He asked, feeling his forehead wrinkle when she nodded in response. He pulled her into a hug. “Let’s chase it, okay?”

Not showing the worry that now clenched his insides was hard. That nightmare… Byleth had had it a few times already, and it always shook her bad. He only got a few words out of her – “lots of people” one time, “scary lady” another, “blood” lastly, which frankly, had scared _him_the worst. He didn’t know where this dream came from. He always made sure Byleth didn’t witness the battles, always leaving her with a trusted mercenary in some village nearby. She was young, far too young for this. And yet… that dream slithered into her nights, leaving her gasping when she woke up. Still stroking her hair, he started rocking the chair, gently, as he did when she needed reassuring. After a few moments, Byleth peeked up from his chest:

“Papa?”

“Yes kiddo?”

“Story?” she cocked her head, nodding towards the book.

“Oh that’s no- erm… would you like one?”

As she glanced up to him, her eyes wide, he felt he had no option but to comply. And so, he picked up his boring book, making up a story out of the tactics and reports it contained. He tried hard to remember his mother’s voice and the bed-time tales she would tell; and though his pace was full of hesitations, Byleth didn’t seem to mind. She diligently followed his finger on the written lines. After a moment though, her eyes fluttered close and she cuddled against her father’s chest. Sleep came back to her, wrapping itself like a blanket around her. Jeralt gradually lowered his voice, still stroking her hair. Byleth chose her moment well: he was starting to run out of ideas. Lightly chuckling to himself, Jeralt blew out the candle and stood from his chair, Byleth securely nestled in the crook of his arm. Time for bed, for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enyoed my fic ^^ !  
Good Dad Jeralt is my jam, I wish there was more content in the game. I mean, pure goodness of this father/daughter relationship, who's with me?


End file.
